


Quiet Isle

by momolady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beach Sex, F/M, Love, One Shot, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Romance, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momolady/pseuds/momolady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands trembled, touching her face, eyes hot and stinging looking upon her. He had dismissed her as dead for so long, perhaps from exhaustion. He shakily wrapped his hands around her, then clung to her, then pulled her nearly into him, a guttural cry ripping from his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Isle

**Author's Note:**

> Written by: amaresempra.tumblr.com & momolady.tumblr.com

He couldn’t believe his eyes, watching her come up the shoreline to him. Her bloody hair free in the grey light. He felt small under her grown gaze.

She was a woman, two tens old. She saw right through his wrappings, his limp. His knees let out beneath him, he knelt in front of her.

At first she wasn't sure, she had been told he was dead. But seeing him, the large body, the slate eyes. She beamed, the one kind soul in her life. He had been brought back inside.

She fell to her knees, holding him close, her hand on the back of his head. "I so missed you."

His voice would not come, it rasped in his throat, years of silence leaving him impaired slightly. He pulled off his wrappings, revealing himself to her. His hair was cropped short against his head, clean and thickly black.

She smiled at him, touching the short hair, the burned half of his face. She said nothing, just smiled. She then kissed him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Oh gods, I prayed for this. Oh how I prayed." She clung to him, hugging him closer.

His hands trembled, touching her face, eyes hot and stinging looking upon her. He had dismissed her as dead for so long, perhaps from exhaustion. He shakily wrapped his hands around her, then clung to her, then pulled her nearly into him, a guttural cry ripping from his throat.

It was cracked and strained, his rasp worse than ever. He wailed like a dying animal, howling.

Sansa laughed shakily. "It's alright." She stroked the back of his neck. "Its alright." She cooed softly. "I'm here because of you."

Why did the gods see it fit to touch him with madness? Why now. Why had she come to him when he could no longer protect her, when he was nothing.

"I'm alive because of you." She whispered.

He coughed and sobbed, clinging her to his chest.  
"Sansa," he finally rasped. "Sansa…Sansa…" he repeated, a mantra.

She cupped his face in her hands, scanning his eyes. The years had given her an understanding, a way to read others. She wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. "I am here." She shook her head, wiping the tears away from his cheeks. "Do not cry so, Sandor." A soft smile touched her lips.

"Sandor," she repeated.

"What are you doing here you daft bird" he barked, harkening to his houndish ways. "Are you mad?!"

"I am looking for peace." She said, matter of factly.

He sat back on the ground, thunderstruck. "Peace."

"I had heard rumors...Lady Brienne told me.” She sat in the sane before him. “I just...curiosity got the best of me."

"Seven buggering hells," he cursed, spitting.

Sansa smiled. "If I wasn't sure before, I am now."

"And your lord husband then? Does he know you to be here?" He was just as insecure as ever.

Sansa shrugged. "We are both free of each other. Tyrion gave me freedom some years ago." Her fingers idly traced lines in the sand. "I have been at Winterfell, while he took Casterly Rock."

"How bloody considerate," he spat. He had hoped she was a widow, something to justify ravishing her. He couldn’t stand the thought of them together, still married. She would have been countlessly bedded by him.

"He remarried." Sansa continued.

He looked at her incredulously. "Sorry for your loss." He sniffed. "I’m sure you loved him dearly."

“I never gave him children.” She shrugged simply. She leaned closer to him. "And he was kind, but I did not love him." She eased into his lap, hands upon his knees. "I thought of only one man my wedding night, and the kiss he gave me."

He felt something in him stir dangerously. Rage, envy, lust. Deep unfulfilled love.

"Of course you’d be a dutiful wife." He sighed, his ideal of her as a maiden gone.

Sansa kissed him, quickly, cautiously. "Tyrion never touched me." She shook her head. “Hence the reason I bore no children.”

His ears were ringing.

She cupped his cheek in her hand, making him look at her. "He wouldn't, unless I gave my consent."

"What?" His world was spinning around him. He wanted a drink. "Why are you here?" He asked, voice broken. "Why seek me out and show me what I canna have?"

"Looking for a dream I thought was out of my reach." She spoke softly. "I came to repay a debt. To find the man who saved my life, and kept me going. The man who..." She looked into his eyes, trying to grasp him with hers.

"I've come for the knight in my dreams."

He laughed at her, a bitter hurt thing. His eyes leaked. "Im no fecking ser, Sansa" he said. His jaw set, and soon he was over her. "What do I have to do to show you that? "  
His kiss was hard, and hungry, but lacked the harshness of the kiss they shared before.

Sansa gripped onto him, taking what he gave, pulling him closer into her on the sand and sighing tranquilly.

"I’m a bloody brother. I have vows of silence, poverty, " he breathed, kissing her more. "Celibacy," he hissed spitefully. "I’m nothing, Sansa" he whispered, sucking her lip longingly.

“I have not asked you to break your vows.” Sansa whispered, pushing against the back of his neck, urging him closer. "And you aren‘t nothing." Sansa kissed his neck. "You have been all I have thought about for years."

He growled "What would you have me do? Break my vows and live as a peasant craven?" He punched the ground by her head, shaking, a wounded animal. "I canna have you Sansa!"

Sansa looked into his eyes, almost ready to cry. "You could come to Winterfell, become my shield.” She put her arms around him again. "I am not asking that you break your vows. I will not force you to come with me, but I will beg and I will cry."

Her lip quivered, eyes wet and wide. "I need you." Her breath shuddering.

He cried out in pain, swearing loudly, most of it blasphemies directed at the seven. Then he quieted, shoulders slouching, heavy.

He sighed. "Why did you come here?" He whispered, trembling, rolling her atop him. A question to no one.

"Don't," Sansa coaxed. "If I am causing you this much pain...I'll leave." She sniffled, propping up on her hands.

He gripped her hips "Bugger that!"He barked. "You should’v known, daft bird. I’ll not let you out of my sight ever again!"

Sansa looked into his eyes. "Make up your mind! How can I quiet that noise inside your head and make you decide?" She pressed her forehead to his. "I don't want to go. I don't want you out of my sight either...but..."

"You are the noise in my head, bloody bird! The only noise! It’ll never quiet!" He grabbed her neck, pulling her to meet his eyes "Damn you! Love of my sodding life!"  
He trembled "Don’t you dare say to leave!"

Sansa kissed him, harder than she intended, rolling him over into the sand with her.

She looked up at him, holding his face so he couldn't run. "I have been waiting on those words."

His eyes leaked angry hot tears, hands running over her body roughly, as if he would never touch her again.

"You’ve kept me waiting too bloody long" he rasped, voice breaking.

"Love of my sodding life," She whispered, fingers slipping into the laces of his trousers. "You have been hiding." The laces came undone.

He groaned something about how swearing wasn’t lady like, claiming over her mouth, spreading her thighs over his lap, thick cock rutting to her  
"How long has it been?" Sansa moaned, running her hands down his chest.

He shook his head. He didn’t remember. No one mattered but her.

"Too long."

"You will make me yours?" She whispered, pulling up his tunic and touching his bare skin, fingers running through the pelt on his chest.

He growled, rolling his hips, stomach ripped and carved with muscle and scars, grave digging keeping him honed. "Aye. You’ll be mine, and mine alone," he snarled. "Does that agree with my lady?"

"It's what I've always wanted." She breathed, knees hitched up against his sides. "So please...I need you."

He moaned, tearing at her smallclothes, rubbing her warm wet slit, groaning in pleasure to find it so needing.

Sansa gasped, gripping onto his shoulders. His thick cock rubbing against her, warm and hard.

He kissed her harsh. "Lower yourself to me," he said, propping up, freeing himself between her legs. He stood thick beneath her, head twitching in anticipation.

His fingers split her lips and soft pelt, fist guiding his head to her small opening. "I’ll not hurt you.. You’re ready."

Sansa looked up at him, pleading. "I am. Please, give me all of you." She opened up her tunic, exposing her breasts to him.

He kissed her chest, rough lips claiming over her nipple, quickly moving to kiss the sensitive swell of her breast, suckling on their thickness, not just their peaks. He bucked up, hands finding her hips, pushing and easing her down onto him.

He winced, throbbing at her tightness. He pumped more, hammering against her unlearned cunny.

Sansa threw her head back, his thickness filling her, stretching her. It felt more pleasurable than she hoped. It felt nice to be filled, to be claimed. "Yes, Sandor." she sang to him.

He pushed her down at his name, splitting and filling her entirely, head meeting her womb. He bit his lip on a moan, thighs twitching, throbbing deep in her.

It was done, he had her maidenhead. White lights behind his eyes glistered, he pant softly, "Sansa..."

"Oh gods!" Sansa sang, reaching up for him, trying to pull him towards her. "My Sandor, come to me." He was twitching and shaking, rocking her insides, and causing soft whimpers and moans. Delicious pain and pleasure.

He moaned, bucking up into her, pace unsteady. His injured thigh throbbing. "Ride me, my Sansa," he growled, nipping her ribs, laying back, lacing her hands in his.

Sansa sat astride him, holding his hands. She bounced gently at first, feeling him hit all the way back inside her. She shook, rolling her hips around, finding a comfortable position. She bounced harder, finding pleasure there. Her breasts bouncing. 

"Is it good?" She panted.

"Gods yes," he breathed, rolling his hips slightly to meet her, but staying restrained. He was letting her have her go, to take him.

Her hands went to his stomach, balancing there and squeezing around his cock internally. She rose up and down, finding a smooth pace. "Its like you were made for me." She panted.

He squeezed her arse, bucking deeply, head stuffing her cervix to her womb "Aye, its known," he growled.

He couldn’t restrain himself longer, feeling his need swell and tighten in his sac.

Sansa moaned loudly, singing for him. "Sandor!" She called out.

Hot nerves exploding in her body, releasing her, bonding her to him.

He rolled her, hooking his arm under her knee, pinning it by her head. He thrust in, slapping and slicking in and out.

"Sansa" he snarled, bucking wildly between her, teeth finding her throat and lips. "Cum for me" he barked

Sansa moaned, panting. Reaching for him and burning kisses into his flesh. She whispered, sweet nothings, praised him. And then she came, a sweet storm inside her body, numb limbs, empty mind. "Sandor!" She cried.

His own orgasm came violently, pent up for too too long. He shoved to her back, spilling his thick load deep inside, shaking and thrusting with each burst, moaning out languidly, forehead pressed to hers, teeth set in a line.

Sansa licked at his lips, kissing him where she could reach. "Its all inside." She whispered. "Let it all inside. I want it."

"My Sansa," he growled, kissing her, shooting as she spoke, every last bit finding its way to her spent cunny. "I’ll have you always," he rasped.

He twitched inside her, refusing to withdraw, kissing , laying beside her, inside her.

Sansa smiled dreamily at him. "And I'll have you." She looped her arms around his neck.

Her skirts covered their shame, the lapping of waves lulling them to sleep. He threw his cloak over them, holding her to him. "Aye, its known." He murmured to her hair.


End file.
